Remember Me?
by spookycc
Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole… Chapter Four COMPLETES this story.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Remember Me?

Author: spookycc

Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…

Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper

Timeline: This story takes place after US Season 6.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them relatively unharmed. Note the term "relatively" - if you've read my X-Files Doggettfic, you'll know what I mean ((wg)).

_First chapter full-sentence italics are to indicate the note Goren gets._

_Italics later in the story are first-person Bobby Goren. _

Reviews devoured - I'm still trying to hit my stride channeling Goren.

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**Robert Goren's Apartment ****The Bronx, NYC**

The local market wasn't crowded. Not at this time of night. Even in the City that Never Sleeps, some of the residents here in the Bronx did, at this hour. Very few vendors stayed open this late, but it was the most convenient time for Detective First Grade Robert Goren to pick up groceries on his way home from work.

He had just made the tedious drive, from 1PP in Manhattan, to his neighborhood. Not many cops could afford to live in the city's most expensive borough, and Goren was no exception. So he lived as close as he could - next door, so to speak, in the Bronx.

Goren wandered through the market, small in space but rich in variety, and tiredly picked through produce and the like. He was dead-tired, as he often felt of late. They had laid his mother to rest less than a month before. Goren sighed. His brother Frank hadn't even made it to the funeral...

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Goren shouldered open his apartment door, and set four bags of groceries on the counter. After he put everything away, he ambled out to the hall and unlocked his mailbox.

When he opened the mailbox door, fliers and junk mail fell into his hands, along with the usual bills. Goren sat down in the living room and flipped on the TV, rifling through the mail in his lap.

One envelope caught his attention, hand-written, with no return address. Goren slipped a finger under the flap and opened it, and a small piece of paper fell out into his hand.

_"Hello, Bobby. Long time no see. I'd apologize for that, but it's your fault, after all. _

_"I met up with someone you know this week. Your brother. You know, I think he'd actually kicked the heroin habit until our paths crossed. Now I'm taking care of him."_

Goren's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't seen Frank since the week their mother died. When Frank had asked about her "financial affairs".

_"If you want your brother back, call me at 212-555-9891. Don't bother tracing it; it's a disposable cell phone. I'll tell you where to meet us. _

_"Don't call in no other cops, Bobby. Or your brother is a goner."_

Goren flipped open his own cell and dialed the number on the letter, without hesitation. It was answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello, Bobby," purred the voice on the other end of the line.

Lights went on in Goren's mind as he placed the voice. "Gene Palmer. What... what the hell do you want?"

"I thought that answer was evident, Bobby. I want you."

"What about Frank?" Goren pursued.

"I don't want that junkie. As soon as I have you, I'll let him go."

"How do I know you even _have_ my brother?" Goren had been set up before, and he wasn't going to put himself at risk for nothing.

"Hang on..." the line was quiet for a moment, then another voice Bobby knew came on the line.

"Hey, little brother, how're you doin'?" the speech was slurred, overly relaxed, but it was Frank's voice, alright.

"Convinced?" Palmer chided Goren.

"OK... OK..." Goren stalled the man as he thought ahead. "Where can we meet?"

"Got a pen handy?"

"Um - yeah, go ahead." Goren scribbled the vague directions Palmer gave him. "OK, I have it - I got it."

"I'll be waiting, Bobby. Remember, NO cops. One glimpse of anyone who even _looks_ like NYPD, other than you, and Frank is dead."

"How do I know you won't kill Frank even if I come alone?" Goren pushed for any assurance at all.

"You don't." The line went dead.

Goren swallowed, hard. He thought about calling Eames, or Logan, but only for a moment. He didn't think about calling Ross at all. He couldn't take that chance. He stuffed the directions in his pocket, and went out to his truck.

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**Rural Cabin **

**Near Fillmore Glen State Park **

**Moravia NY**

Goren parked as close as he dared to the cabin where he had been told his brother was being held. He pulled a flashlight from his glove box and turned it on. Checking the area warily, he unholstered his weapon and strode purposefully toward the clearing where the cabin sat. It looked deserted. Goren knew it probably wasn't.

He had only taken several steps when he heard a rustling behind him, and he whirled, gun in hand. A startled doe scrambled back into the brush and loped away.

If the situation had not been so serious, Robert Goren might have found humor in the scene - a towering NYPD detective nearly frightened by a deer.

Goren turned quickly back toward the cabin, and resumed his approach.

He opened the squeaky, rotting door, flashlight and gun leading his way in.

Inside the cabin, his light revealed a man seated on a straight chair, facing him. Palmer. A gun was in his hand, too. But Goren's eyes were drawn to the corner, where a man lay on a bed, atop a threadbare blanket. The man on the bed looked up at Bobby.

It _was_ Frank. He looked a little strung-out, but no more than when Bobby had seen him outside a church in the city, not long ago.

For his part, Palmer remained seated, his gun pointed squarely at Goren's chest. "Put the gun down, and Frank leaves here."

Goren hesitated, fairly sure he could not trust Palmer, but not knowing yet what other options he had.

"Do it. Now."

Goren turned his attention back to his older brother. "You OK, Frank?"

Frank pulled himself to a sitting position. "I'm fine, Bobby. How are you?"

Goren shook his head. Frank didn't even know what was going on.

Palmer stood, bringing Goren's attention back to him. "Bobby, I'm not gonna tell you again. Put the gun down, and I let Frank go. Otherwise, I'll just shoot you, and keep him... your choice."

"You said... you said you didn't even want him," Goren pursued.

"True, true, but if you refuse me, what choice do I have?"

"Let us both go. I'll see to it that no.. no charges are filed, get you help."

Palmer laughed, and spat on the floor in front of Goren. "I don't want _help_, Bobby. I want revenge." He kept his eyes on Goren, but pointed the gun now at Frank. "If you don't believe I'll shoot _you_, maybe you'd believe this more?"

Palmer pulled the trigger, deliberately missing Frank, but not by much. His eyes never left the detective, still armed, in front of him.

"I'm losing my patience, Bobby," Palmer hissed. "And if you recall, I don't have that much to start with."

Goren kept his gun in his hand, but raised both hands slowly above his head. "OK. OK..."

"Lay your gun on the floor, and kick it over toward me."

Goren very slowly did as he was instructed. Palmer nodded to Frank. "Get outta here."

Frank raised himself from the bed and walked toward Bobby, weaving only slightly. Palmer hadn't even gotten him as high as he used to get himself, Goren mused.

Goren reached into his pocket for his truck keys.

"No tricks," Palmer watch the detective to make sure he didn't have another weapon.

"Here. Take my truck." Goren handed the keys to his brother. Frank, for his part, never acknowledged the action, nor indeed the situation. He took the keys from Bobby's hand, and left the cabin without a backward glance.

Goren stood with both hands raised, looking for a way to outmaneuver Palmer. There wasn't much time left, he didn't think, until any chance would be gone.

Palmer leaned over to pick up Goren's gun, and the detective saw his last best chance. He leaped at the ex-con, and had his fingers around his own gun for a milli-second before a blow from the butt of Palmer's gun rendered the big detective unconscious...

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Palmer pulled a tourniquet around Goren's arm and tied it off tightly, no easy feat since the detective was struggling against his bonds. The tourniquet didn't _have_ to be _that_ tight, but it pleased Palmer to make Goren more uncomfortable.

"Keep your damn arm still!" Palmer hissed, trying to hit the vein in Goren's arm while the detective jerked away. Goren's hands and feet were tied securely to the chair on which he sat, but that wasn't making it much easier.

Goren pulled back, rocking the chair, and kept his arms moving as much as he could. He saw the crazed look in Palmer's eyes, and knew this was his last chance to avoid the needle.

"Son of a bitch!" Palmer threw the needle on the table, and landed a solid punch on Goren's jaw. The detective's chair flew backward, and his head hit the floor. Hard.

"That should help." Palmer pulled the chair back on its legs with some difficulty. "Damn, you've gained a little weight there, Bobby. You been desk-jockeying lately?"

Goren was in no condition to answer. Semi-conscious, his head lolled to the side as Palmer retrieved the needle from the table, and injected the contents into Goren's vein.

Then Palmer sat back and waited. With a smile... He could have seen the results a lot more quickly if he hadn't knocked Goren out.

Whatever...

Goren awoke only slowly, and was surprised to feel no pain. He felt warm, flushed, and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. But he wasn't worried. For the first time in forever, he wasn't worried about how he felt, or why he felt that way...

"Hey, welcome back, Bobby! I see you're feelin' no pain." Palmer grinned down at him.

Goren shook his head and instantly wished he hadn't. He was dizzy, relaxed, and his mind was fuzzy.

Palmer untied Goren's hands and feet, and pulled the taller man to a standing position. Goren wobbled and nearly fell - Palmer supported him until he could stand on his own.

"Well? How do you like it, man?"

Goren shook his head, more slowly this time. "L--like what?"

"Heroin, Bobby - my stock and trade, until you busted me!"

Goren's muddled mind attempted to make sense of what Palmer said, without much success.

"I wanna give you a little taste of what it was like for me to go through involuntary detox, when you had me thrown in prison. But first, I gotta get you hooked."

TBC

Please R&R?


	2. Chapter 2

Remember Me?

Author: spookycc

Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…

Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper

_Time line: This story takes place after US Season 6, before Amends._

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them **relatively** unharmed. ;-)

_Italics are first-person Bobby Goren. _

Reviews devoured - I'm still trying to hit my stride channeling Goren.

**Author's Notes:**

I'm thinkin' Bobby would live pretty close to 1PP. But Manhattan is kinda pricey on an NYPD salary, so I housed him next door, in da Bronx. And I gave him a vehicle, a truck, since his long legs would get cramped in a car. And cuz he looked damn fine driving their SUV, in "Amends". ;-)

I know nothing about illegal drugs other than what I researched for this story and others, so please forgive blatant mistakes about interactions, effects, etc... The first-person accounts are actual accounts from former addicts, just tweaked so they sounded more like Goren.

music now playing: "Bliss" ("I Don't Wanna Know"), by Hinder.

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Remember Me? -Chapter 2

**Rural Cabin **

**Near Fillmore Glen State Park**

**Moravia NY**

Bobby stumbled back to the bed and landed unceremoniously on his ass.

_What the hell is going on?!!? What the hell is happening?. Everything is so far away. I can't really make out what is going on around me, but it feels like there is a lot happening. There is movement and noise, I just can't quite tell what it is. Who is that? What is that noise? I am confused, like coming to after an all-consuming psychedelic experience. I can see, but I am not quite sure what is real and what isn't. Everything has a strange feel to it and I can't quite recognize where I am. Hell, I can't even quite put my finger on **who** I am. _

Goren's muzzled musings were interrupted by the amused voice of his captor. "Do you know why it's called 'heroin', Bobby?"

Goren shook his head slowly, although fuzzily aware that he did indeed, once, know the answer to Palmer's question.

"Cuz the dude who synthesized it, in Germany, said the people who used it felt heroic. Kinda ironic, huh? You're what most people would call 'heroic'."

Goren didn't feel heroic, but then he didn't really feel anything. He let his head fall back against the wall, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. The irony was lost on him, at least for now. He was experiencing a numbness, in mind and body, that was similar to the times in his life when he'd been roaring drunk, and also to the few times he'd experimented with drugs, many years before. He felt strangely OK, without a care, and even his hazy mind told him **that** was unusual. He felt as though nothing could bother him, and he felt no pain, emotional or physical.

Goren glanced up and smiled the smallest smile, in spite of his situation. Palmer grinned back at him. "What d'ya think, Bobby? Heroin is both good and evil, Angel and Demon. Do you love her yet?"

Goren just sighed, and his eyes slipped closed. He was riding slow, relaxing waves lapping at the edge of the ocean. He nodded off to sleep.

When he awoke, he was secured once more, this time to the bed...

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**Major Case Squad room**

**1 Police Plaza**

**Manhattan, NYC**

"Eames!"

Captain Danny Ross' voice filled the bullpen, and Alex Eames winced involuntarily. She walked toward his office, already knowing the reason for her summons, and already worried.

"Where the hell is your partner?" Ross closed the door behind her.

"I wish to hell I _knew_, Captain." If he was shocked by her own use of the H-word, he didn't show it. "I've tried calling his cell all morning long. It goes straight to voice mail, it's probably turned off. No answer at his home, either."

"That's not like Goren," Ross mused.

Eames resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'd like to go to his apartment, sir, just to make sure nothing's wrong."

Ross nodded. "Do it. Take Logan with you."

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**Robert Goren's Apartment**

**The Bronx, NYC**

Eames was actually a bit relieved to see Bobby's truck gone when she pulled up to his building. That was an indicator at the very least that he had probably gone wherever the hell he was of his own free will.

She and Logan stopped at Goren's door, and she rang the buzzer. When she received no response, which was as she expected, she used her own copy of Goren's key to let herself in. She ignored Logan's raised eyebrow and they checked the apartment out.

Eames was in the kitchen when Logan called her back to the foyer area. "Check this out, Eames." He held a piece of paper in his now-gloved hand.

A chill ran down Eames' spine as she read the note that her partner had read just the day before. "Let's take it back, dust it for prints." Logan picked up the envelope, as well.

Maybe the sender had been stupid enough to lick the adhesive and they could pull some DNA from it. They checked Goren's land-line answering machine before they left - there were no messages.

Eames rammed their SUV through midtown traffic and back to 1PP. They dropped the envelope and note off, and went back up to the 11th floor to report their findings to Ross.

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**Remote Cabin**

**Moravia NY**

"Hey it looks like you need another dose, Bobby. Happy to oblige." Palmer stepped into Goren's line of vision, needle in hand, and uncuffed the detective's hands from the bed.

Goren resisted the urge - with a will he didn't know he possessed anymore - to put his arm out for the needle. He couldn't beg. He wouldn't beg.

"You WILL beg for it, Bobby." It was as if Palmer had read the detective's mind. "You WILL."

He pulled the tourniquet around Goren's arm, noting with pleasure that the big cop didn't even try to resist. The plunger hissed, and so did the breath escaping Goren's lips as he awaited the rush...

_Nothing can touch me. I'm invincible. I hear him place the syringe on the table, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes yet. As he places it on the table, I notice how odd it sounds. It doesn't echo... It's a mocking sound. The syringe is trying to laugh at me... the syringe is trying to make me feel bad, too... but it can't, nothing can. I remember from working Narcotics, that people always try to put into words the feeling heroin brings them.. that's just the problem.. it doesn't.. It's the most intense nothingness there ever was. _

I let out a sigh. I have no idea how long I had been holding my breath. The breath that comes out of my mouth is warm... I'm warm... I'm engulfed in a sea of what seems to be warm liquid. 

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**Major Case Squad room**

**1 Police Plaza**

**Manhattan, NYC**

Eames looked up from her computer, waiting - not patiently - for the prints or DNA results from the lab. She knew she had priority over any other case right now, but still the waiting seemed endless, as she poked through Goren's arrests record to find any

information that might be pertinent.

They already had a solid short-list of possible perps. But even the short-list was too long. Eames and Logan eliminated the few who were the least likely suspects, but they still had too many on their plate.

Finally, Logan dashed into the squad room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.

"Palmer - it's Palmer!" Eames ripped the paper from Logan's hand. No DNA, but they had a four-point match on a print. And he was already on their list.

"Any address on him?" Logan asked needlessly. Eames was already typing frantically, pulling up any information they had on Palmer.

"Last known is a girlfriend's SRO in Flushing, Queens." Eames scanned the screen quickly, but found no additional information. She jotted down the address.

Logan briefed Ross, and the two took off. They found the dumpy apartment furnished sparsely, but otherwise abandoned. Eames balled up the address note and threw it in frustration. "Damn! A dead end!"

"Let's check it out," Logan walked further inside.

Eames opened the refrigerator and sniffed in disgust at the half-rotten food within it.

"They haven't _eaten_ here recently."

Logan sat at the lone table, on a three-legged chair that barely supported his weight. He looked at the table top and then tilted his head in an unconsciously Goren-like manner, and looked closer.

Powder.

Logan dipped his finger in the tiny amount, and smelled it. "Probably heroin."

This wasn't a surprise. "Heroin was what Palmer was dealing when Goren shut him down," Eames observed tightly.

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**Remote Cabin**

**Moravia NY**

Goren awoke to a rumbling in his stomach, and another need... one he couldn't quite define, in his confused state.

When his eyes could focus, he saw a figure seated at a table in the center of the room.

Goren blinked a couple times, and then his body reminded him why that figure was there.

"Hey, Bobby,' Palmer looked up cheerfully. "Glad you're back, I miss your sparkling conversation."

Goren licked his lips and said nothing.

"Ya know, your silence is just an added bonus in this whole thing. You always talked too much. The detective who could coerce an innocent man into confessing to a crime he'd never even committed. With nothing but that silver tongue of yours, and your cunning intellect," Palmer smiled at the bound detective.

"Doesn't help you much NOW, does it?" he leered.

"I... I ne..." Goren's words were slurred, but Palmer knew what he was fighting.

"I know what you need, Bobby. But you know what I'm waiting for. Beg, You have to beg if you want more."

Goren swallowed a gulp of air.

"C'mon, you KNOW you want it." Palmer filled a syringe and sat beside Goren, held the syringe in front of the older man's face.

The detective shook his head back and forth. "Need... n..."

"I said 'beg'." Palmer pushed.

Goren took a huge breath, and drew on all his willpower. "No."

Palmer laughed in his face. "What?"

"No... won't- beg..." Goren fought every fiber of his being. His body was calling for more... just one more dose...

"Well, this wasn't nearly as enjoyable as I'd hoped, but it's your choice." Palmer set the syringe back on the table, not missing the way Goren's neck muscles strained as he watched him lay the needle down.

He patted Goren on the head, as if he was a little child. "Hey, I'll be back in awhile. Gotta get some food. Not for you..."

---------------

Sometime later, Goren awoke to pain, and couldn't remember the last time he had even felt pain. His arms and wrists felt like hell. He looked up and saw his wrists cuffed together, and then secured to the headboard with what looked like a simple rope.

"Shit." Goren stretched his arms as much as he could, and winced as the cuffs cut into his wrists.

Palmer was nowhere to be seen. Goren was at first relieved at this, then worried. He needed what Palmer offered. He didn't _want_ to need it. But there was the dilemna...

Throughout the next several hours, Goren went through brief periods when he felt very much himself, and very much screwed. Then, just as fast, muscle cramps would course through him, and he would be alternately hot and cold, shivering miserably.

When Goren had been high, the bonds that held him had meant nothing - he was so relaxed, it was almost as if they didn't even exist. But now - now his body thrashed restlessly, riding the waves of nausea and physical pain that his withdrawal caused.

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**Major Case Squad room**

**1 Police Plaza**

**Manhattan, NYC**

"I've got it!" Eames pulled a piece of paper from a stack on her desk, and jotted down the information from her laptop. "Palmer's dad had a cabin. Upstate. Somewhere near Fillmore Glen State Park."

She did a lightning-speed internet search, and grabbed the map and directions almost before they were done printing. "I have directions to the park. After that, we'll have to split up and check out the whole area."

Logan informed Ross of their findings, and the captain dispatched nearly his entire squad to accompany Logan and Eames to the park. Ross remembered grimly that day when he had deployed Major Case to Eames' apartment, after her kidnapping at the hands of the daughter of Goren's old mentor. That had been in Ross' first week at Major Case, and he'd almost lost one of his detectives. He shook off the unhelpful thoughts...

Lights... sirens... the convoy of police vehicles arrived at Fillmore Glen State Park. In this season, the park was a sea of campers and hikers. They drew curious glances from the nature-lovers.

They split the map into grids, and drove off in pairs to search the surrounding wooded areas...

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**Remote Cabin**

**Moravia NY**

Perhaps it was fated that Logan and Eames should be the ones to find the cabin they sought. If that's what the ramshackle building now in front of them was.

Eames knew that they should wait for back-up. But there was no cell signal out here. And she feared that Goren didn't have much time. So they parked as close to the cabin as they dared, and pulled out their weapons. Goren's truck was not there, nor were there any other vehicles in the clearing. There were tire tracks. Both sets were from truck or SUV tires.

She wasn't sure what to expect when they opened the cabin door - an ambush, an empty building. In the near-total darkness, they actually saw almost nothing.

She _heard_ something, though, and flipped on her pocket flashlight, holding it above her gun. Another sound - a moan, low and keening.

She looked at Logan, who gazed back at her with worried eyes. She shone the flashlight around the cabin, and her breath caught in her throat. In the far corner was a bed, and secured to that bed was Robert Goren.

Palmer could still be here - Logan scanned the room quickly. They appeared to be alone. Eames ran to the bed and holstered her weapon, sitting down beside her bound partner. Logan stood right behind her, watching them, but also watching the room.

"Oh, God, Bobby," Eames pulled out her handcuff keys and released his wrists. Dark red marks lined them. He had struggled - a lot. Logan stalked the four corners of the cabin and then returned to the pair.

"The place is clear," Logan informed her. "Palmer's gone."

Eames did not turn her attention from her partner. Goren's eyes were slightly glazed over, and his pupils were dilated. His expression was one of undisguised pain.

Eames rested her hands on either side of her partner's head, as Logan untied his feet. "Fever - he's burning up."

"Bobby, it's me. We're gonna get you out of here, OK?" She pulled his hands into her own, and then saw the needle tracks on his arms. "No - Damn! Palmer shot him up."

Logan grimly assessed the marks, and then returned to untying Goren's legs. At that moment, Goren's body spasmed, as pain ripped through him. Eames held him in her arms, and rode through it with him.

"He's going through withdrawal." Logan did not attempt to disguise his worry.

Eames released her hold on her partner, just a bit. "We'd better take him to the hospital ourselves. We can call in as soon as we have a signal."

"Here - let me," Logan picked Goren up, with a little difficulty. The big detective was heavier by more than a few pounds, and he was dead weight. Logan sped up his pace, determined to get Goren to help.

Eames got in the back seat of their SUV, and Logan gently loaded her partner in beside her, and then jumped in the driver's seat and turned the engine over.

Goren's body shook uncontrollably, and his face was flush with fever. Eames reached behind the back seat, and pulled a blanket from the back of the SUV. She tucked it in around her partner, as she pulled his head into her lap. "It's okay, you're okay..." She rested her fingers on his wrist - his pulse was fast.

Her clinical side knew it as a withdrawal symptom, just like the fever. That information didn't make it any easier to bear. Knowing was one thing. Witnessing the affects on her partner was something else entirely. Goren's eyes, when they were open, were very dilated, and he was still "out of it".

Eames heard Logan as though his voice was in another room, calling in to Ross as soon as they had cell signal - to let him know they'd found Goren, and were on their way to the hospital.

The nearest hospital was almost fifteen miles away, in Cortland - Eames had researched that on their way upstate. It seemed like much longer, even though Logan had the pedal to the metal and the flasher on.

Bobby's arms thrashed about within the blanket, as his cold chill was replaced by a hot flash, and he fought to escape the warmth. Eames pulled the blanket down a little, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with her fingers. By the time his arms finally relaxed a bit, muscle spasms wracked his legs, and they tensed and relaxed beneath the blanket, as though he was trying to run.

Perhaps he was, in a way... trying to run away... back to whatever state the drug had induced. It had to be easier on him than the trials of his "normal" life. He had become more withdrawn after his mother died, and Eames was heartbroken that he hadn't allowed her to help him. He'd closed himself off, like he always did. It was Goren's way.

Eames shook her head and brought herself back to the present. Her partner... her friend... laid limply in her arms, helpless as a kitten, seeming so much smaller than he normally did. She ran her fingers softly through his sweaty, gray-black hair. "We're almost there, OK? Hang in there, Bobby."

How much longer until they got to the hospital?

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

**Remember Me? Chapter Three**

Author: spookycc, with JudyG

Special guest beta: galeriel

Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…

Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper

Rating: T for language and mild violence

_Time line: This story takes place after US Season 6, before Amends._

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/ Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them relatively unharmed. ;-)

**Author's Notes:**

I know nothing about illegal drugs other than what I researched for this story and others, so please forgive blatant mistakes about interactions, effects, etc...

Thank you to my Little Sister, who got me out of that corner I painted myself into!

**Reviews devoured like chocolate!**

--

**Remember Me? - Chapter 3**

**Somewhere on the road between Fillmore Glen State Park ****and Cortland Regional Medical Center ****New York State**

Gene Palmer maneuvered his pickup truck down the nearly-deserted highway. He knew that he could have stopped at the quickie mart close to the park to grab some food, but he wanted Goren to suffer more. So he had made the longer trek into Cortland, instead, figuring it would make his captive more eager to see him, when he finally returned.

Palmer's reverie was interrupted by the sight of a fast-approaching vehicle, from the other direction. It took only a moment for the ex-con to recognize the single red flashing light on the dashboard. The SUV was exactly like the one that had followed him in the days prior to his arrest, so it had to be an NYPD vehicle. But why were they up here?

He already knew the answer. They had to have found his hideout. But they weren't traveling back toward New York City, they were headed in the direction of Cortland, undoubtedly to get Goren help.

"Damn! Son of a BITCH!" Palmer slammed his open hand against the steering wheel of his truck. He looked farther down the road, but the SUV was the only vehicle he saw.

In an instant, he made his decision. It was now or never. They had no reason to believe that he would be on the road right now. And no one in the SUV knew what his truck looked like, so no one would recognize it, especially not at night.

Palmer waited until the SUV was almost beside him. Then he swung his steering wheel hard to the left, and threw himself down flat on the seat. With a sickening shriek of metal on metal, his truck T-boned the larger vehicle, bulldozing it off the road and into the woods adjoining it.

Palmer shook his head several times, to clear his mind from the force of the impact. All he could hear was a steady blare in his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was the SUV's horn. He sat back up and surveyed the damage before him. The other vehicle was wedged between his truck and a stand of trees. His door wouldn't open, so he climbed stiffly out the window.

Pulling out his gun, he checked inside the SUV. The front airbag hadn't deployed, which explained the blasting of the horn. Someone's head was pressing against the steering wheel, but that someone wasn't Goren. Whoever it was, however, he wasn't moving.

Quickly glancing in the back seat, Palmer saw Goren's MCS partner - he remembered from his research that her name was Eames - lying atop her colleague's motionless body. Her head had impacted with the window and door frame when he had hit them. Tiny squares of safety glass clung to her hair and the left side of her head was bloodied.

No time to waste, no time to gloat... Palmer reached inside the broken front window and pulled the stranger's cuffs from his belt, as well as the gun from his shoulder holster. Then he walked around the front end, opened the passenger side, and hauled the man across the front seat until he was backed against the door. His head was a mess, having impacted with the steering wheel when the airbag failed to deploy. Palmer knew he would be out for awhile, but he pulled his arms behind him anyway, cuffing them to the armrest before he shut the door.

Palmer also knew there was no way the back door on the driver's side would open. It was a mangled mass of steel, so he opened the rear passenger door instead, and started to pull Eames across the seat. It was difficult, because her legs were still under Goren's limp body. A few more tugs finally released her from her partner's weight, and Palmer positioned her the same way he had the man in the front. He used her own cuffs from her waistband to secure her hands and removed her gun from its holster, sticking it in his belt.

Only then did Palmer realize how dizzy he was himself, and he sat roughly on the ground, collecting his thoughts for just a moment. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbed the just-purchased food from inside his bent and contorted truck cabin. Then he carried the bags over to the driver's side of the SVU, climbed in, and sat the bags on the seat beside him. The engine turned over when he started it, as he had hoped it would, since he hadn't hit the front end of the vehicle.

Palmer backed away from the tree line and pulled the SUV behind his truck. A few pushes and his old beater rolled down a hill into a more deeply wooded area. Making sure there was no way to see it from the road, he drove a short distance until he found a familiar path. He knew from his childhood that these paths led to supply shacks the forest service used during the dry season. Not that anyone would be there now. It had been a wet summer and the danger of fire was low.

Turning off the headlights, he carefully drove to the storage shack. While his captives were still unconscious, he dragged the stranger and Eames, one by one, into the small building. He secured them to the built-in metal shelving with their cuffs, and then went back for Goren.

He had only taken two steps outside the shack when he knew something was wrong. The back seat was empty! "Shit!" How the hell had-

From the dark brush beside the shack, a shape hit him broadside, knocking him to the ground. Surprised, he grappled with the detective, and felt Goren going for the weapon in his hand.

Ordinarily, it might have been a fair fight, but Goren didn't have much fight left in him, in his weakened state. Palmer slammed his pistol butt into the side of Goren's head, and the detective fell atop him, as he blacked out.

Disgusted, Palmer shoved the unconscious body away and quickly clambered to his feet, his adrenaline still surging. Goren had caught him by surprise and that should never have happened. He should have been more careful.

Grabbing the big detective under his arms, he pulled him into the shack. He hadn't found the cuffs from which his partner had undoubtedly released him, so he used a roll of wire to bind Goren's wrists back together before tethering him between his friends. Next, he removed the cuff keys from the pockets of both Eames and the stranger. He also pulled out the stranger's badge wallet from his pocket. Mike Logan, it said. The name meant nothing to him.

Finally, Palmer went back outside and pulled the SUV behind the shack, just in case someone noticed the tracks along the road. Only then did he allow himself to heave a huge sigh. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and his energy was waning. It was past time to replenish it.

Sitting at the small table in the shack, he ripped open a bag of pork rinds and popped the top off a bottle of cheap beer.

--

**Cortland Regional Medical Center ****New York State**

Danny Ross was at the hospital, waiting for Logan and Eames to arrive with Goren. They were overdue and their cells were going straight to voicemail, so he was pissed.

He was also worried.

He called his team in from the field and asked his tech specialists to figure out where Logan's last call had come from, based on the towers that had bounced the signal. He also contacted NYPD and asked for a GPS reading of the SUV's location. AVL tracking was standard equipment on police vehicles and hopefully his detectives would still be nearby.

But it all took time. And Ross wasn't sure just how much time he had left.

--

**Forest Service Shack ****New York State**

Bobby Goren came to before either of his two friends. His head was throbbing, and his arms ached from his wrists being secured behind his back. The time asleep had allowed some of the drug withdrawal to abate, but he still shivered uncontrollably when the chills overtook his body. And he found it difficult to control the tremors in his arms and legs.

Turning his head painfully to his left, he saw his partner lying not far from him, her wrists bound in the same manner as his. "She's wearing her own cuffs," he noted sadly, wordlessly. He couldn't see the extent of her injuries, but he did see bits of glass in her hair and dried blood on the side of her head.

Goren tried to inch closer, but was unable to move far enough because of the way he was secured. "Eames." he whispered, hoping to awaken her without attracting the attention of their captor.

There was no response to his voice. He laid as still as he could, and was relieved to see her chest rising and falling in a steady, comforting rhythm. "I'm sorry, Alex..." Guilt pushed its way into his still-confused thoughts. She wouldn't have been hurt if she and Logan hadn't come after him.

Slowly turning his body the other way, he saw Mike Logan near his right side. The detective's face was bloody from a cut on his forehead and Goren was also unable to wake him. He was unable, it seemed, to do much of anything, except lie silently between them.

Shivering violently, Goren had never felt so miserable and alone...

--

**On the road between Fillmore Glen State Park ****and Cortland Regional Medical Center ****New York State**

Ross put down his radio and heaved a huge sigh. They were finally on their way and action was infinitely preferable to waiting. They had the coordinates of Goren and Eames' SUV and had, in turn, programmed the information into their own GPS receiver.

Three more vehicles followed his own, all unmarked. Behind them were two ambulances from Cortland Regional. They had all used their sirens for most of the trip, but had now silenced them so Palmer wouldn't hear their arrival. "IF he's still with Goren," Ross mused to himself. "And if Goren and Eames and Logan were still near the SUV." The trace on Logan's cell had shown that when he called, they were about midway between the state park and Cortland Medical Center. But by now, they could be anywhere.

The team slowed as they approached the coordinates on their GPS receiver, and parked on either side of a long gravel road that led back into the woods...

--

**Forest Service Shack ****New York State**

Palmer relaxed at the table, sipping beer and watching his captives on the other side of the shack. They had all regained consciousness, not that it mattered to him. Goren and his partner were talking in hushed tones, a fact that made him smile. They could plot whatever escape they wanted; as secure as they were right now, they weren't going anywhere.

His attention was diverted by a sound he heard outside. Or thought he heard. How would anyone know where to find them? Maybe it was someone from the forest service. But there shouldn't be any equipment they needed in this shack, not during this rainy spell they'd been having...

Palmer walked to the shack's single front window, and crouched beside it, gun in hand. It WASN'T his imagination - he sensed rather than saw the furtive shadows moving around outside. There was no back door, but he figured there were cops behind the shack, too.

Thinking quickly, Palmer knew if the cops were here, there were more than he could take out by himself. He needed a bargaining chip. He smiled...

Palmer slid his gun into the back of his pants, and untied Goren from between his two friends. Eames and Logan protested and kicked out, trying to trip him, but he had made sure they weren't close enough together to get into any trouble...

The big detective didn't protest as Palmer put his arm around his neck, especially when he again withdrew his revolver. Then, opening the door with his gun hand, he stepped onto the porch with his hostage.

"Palmer! We have you surrounded!" Ross' voice rang out in the clearing.

The ex-con tightened his grip around Goren's neck. "That's fine, cop! But you'll have to take this guy out to get to me!"

"Hold your fire!" Ross ordered as the men closed in on the shack. Goren's eyes were hazy and unfocused and he looked as though his captor's arm might be cutting off his air. Holding up both hands, the captain continued, "No one needs to get hurt here, Palmer. Let my officers go, and I'll see that the DA shows you some leniency."

Palmer laughed, a creepy, intense sound. "I don't intend to be seeing a DA anytime soon."

Ross re-evaluated the situation immediately. Palmer wasn't giving in. He wanted to go out in a "blaze of glory", and he didn't care who he took with him.

Goren was struggling to hold his eyes open and stay on his feet. At the moment, he was a very effective shield for Palmer, since he was much bigger than the ex-convict.

Feeling confident, Palmer relaxed his grip for a second, and that was the opening Goren had been waiting for. He feigned more light-headedness than he felt, as though he were about to pass out. And as Palmer struggled to support him, Goren fell to his knees, and then threw his weight into his captor, knocking him off his feet. A single shot rang out, slamming harmlessly into the porch roof, before Palmer fell flat on his back with the big detective atop his lower body.

"Get him!"

Ross' team was already swarming toward the shack, preventing their target from getting any off more shots. They grabbed his gun and rolled an exhausted Goren off him, pulling Palmer to his feet and cuffing him.

The ex-con protested loudly, but Ross ignored his profanity as he went around the arresting team and knelt down to examine his prone detective.

"I'm ok," Goren's voice was hoarse, and he coughed. "Check Eames and Logan."

"We need the buses up here, now!" the captain yelled to his team. Within moments, the ambulances pulled up and dispatched several paramedics to the shack. They split up, attending to all of the injured detectives.

Ross gave them the cuff keys from the table, so they could un-cuff Logan and Eames, and he watched as they evaluated the two detectives, and prepped them for transport. "How are they?" he asked in a low voice.

One EMT nodded at Eames. "She probably has a concussion, definitely some blood loss, but she's stable." Looking toward Logan, he added, "Same with him. And he'll need some stitches for that forehead wound."

Eames looked up at Ross. "We're fine, sir. How's Bobby?"

"He's asking about you," Ross assured her. Although Logan and Eames looked bad, he knew Goren had more serious medical issues.

Glancing over, Ross noted that the wires had been removed from Goren's wrists and a paramedic was busy checking his vitals. The detective's face was covered with sweat and he shivered, despite the blanket they had tucked around him. "He also has some head trauma and a possible skull fracture," the doctor informed the captain when he stepped closer. "Thanks to the information you gave us, we can start a safe course of drug treatment…"

Ross let out a sigh of relief as they gingerly loaded Goren onto a stretcher. He took half the weight since there weren't enough EMT's to carry everyone back to the ambulances. And as Goren was loaded in one and Eames and Logan into the other, the captain thought to himself, "Finally, it's over." All his detectives needed now was time to heal.

Hurrying back to his car, Ross followed the ambulances as they headed back to Cortland General, an NYPD escort leading the way.

TBC...

Please review? Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Remember Me?  
Chapter 4  
**  
_Author: spookycc_

_Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…_

_Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper_

_Time line: This story takes place after US Season 6, before Amends._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them relatively unharmed. ;-)_

_THANK YOU to my beta and best friend, my little sister JudyG!_

_**--  
**_  
**Remember Me? Chapter 4**  
The ER doors flew open and the EMT's rushed in with their patients. ER staff had been notified while the ambulances were still en route, and knew they would be dealing with head trauma, among other injuries.

Cortland Regional Medical Center  
Cortland, New York

"I'm fine, dammit." Mike Logan was wheeled in first, followed immediately by Alex Eames. Both had remained awake during the trip, and Logan was arguing that he didn't need medical attention, despite the blood running into his eye from under a gauze pad. They were quickly wheeled to separate exam rooms.

Bobby Goren was the last of the three to enter the ER area, and it was quickly evident to the physicians on-staff that he was in worse shape than the first two. He was barely conscious, and his face was slick with a sheen of sweat. He was shivering uncontrollably, despite having three thick blankets tucked around him.

Ross followed his three detectives into the ER, and gave out the information requested by the staff at the hospital, filling in details as much as he was able.

One ER tech held the IV bag connected to Goren's hand, as they rolled his stretcher into another exam room. She slipped the bag onto an IV pole and they lifted him from the stretcher to the exam table, careful to cover up his shivering form again.

Goren's eyes slipped shut, as they took his vitals and added various bags to the IV tree beside him. One bag was another d5w solution, to re-hydrate him, since he was sweating out precious fluids. The second was a muscle relaxant, to combat the cramps that they knew heroin withdrawal would cause in Goren's arms and legs. They replaced the nearly-empty bag of liquid Buprenorphine, an opioid drug, which they would taper off over the next 24-48 hours, to wean Goren off the heroin that he had been addicted to, against his will.

The neurosurgeon on staff checked Goren's head wound, determining, after it was cleaned up, that no stitches were needed. He gently shook Goren's shoulder, to make sure he would wake up, which he did. There was likely a concussion, and he didn't want the man sleeping for awhile.

Their captain went from one cubicle to the next, checking in on each of his detectives. He checked on Goren first, but was shoo'd out after just a few moments. He managed to learn that Goren's vitals were stable, except that his temperature was still elevated. Ross had seen the various meds dripping into the IV beside Goren's bed, and sighed. The things this poor man got caught up in... and this time his injuries were the direct result of his 100 conviction rate in narcotics. Ross wondered how many other paroled psychos were out there gunning for his best detective.

Ross visited Eames next. She was leaning back against several pillows. The EMT's had staunched the blood flow from her head wound, and she looked nothing so much as extremely drained. As soon as she saw him in the doorway, Eames sat up straighter. "Is Bobby ok?"

"He's doing pretty well, all things considered," Ross reported. "They're countering his withdrawal with meds, and re-hydrating him. His head wound wasn't severe. How about you?"

Eames shrugged her shoulders. "No stitches, just a headache," she dismissed her own injuries. The staff had cleaned up her scalp wound and she looked much more alert, much more herself.

"Can I get you anything?" Ross offered.

Eames shook her head. "What room is Bobby in?"

"WHEN they determine that you can be up and around," Ross warned, "he's in room 6."

"Thank you, Captain. Thanks for finding us out there, too. I was beginning to get a little worried."

Ross smiled a sideways smile, and left Eames, certain that she was plotting how to get out of her room and over to check on her partner.

He found Logan sitting with his legs dangling off the exam table, holding a piece of gauze on his forehead.

"Captain - how's Goren?" Logan's concern was not for himself, either.

Ross went over Goren's prognosis with Logan, too. He knew that if Goren were awake, he'd be asking about his partner and Logan. The detectives were a close-knit group, and they had become friends through some trying times for Major Case.

"Check it out," Logan lifted the gauze and revealed the tidy stitching underneath. "The docs say it won't even scar much. It's a damned shame, too, cuz women think scars are hot." Logan smiled, relieved about Goren and now feeling antsy. "So when can we get the hell outta here?"

"You and Eames are being released as soon as the paperwork is done," Ross told him. "Goren will be here until the drug treatment is finished. A day or two, I think."

Logan nodded. "Is it ok if Eames and I-"

"I've already booked two rooms in town for you and Eames," Ross smiled. "I knew you wouldn't want to leave until Goren gets out, too. I called and got you a rental vehicle, too, since your SUV will be in the shop for awhile."

Logan grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Cap."

"Not your fault," Ross replied. "You three take care - I have a pile of paperwork with my name on it, back in the city."

"Safe trip, Captain," Logan smiled.

Ross sighed. "Give me a call if there are any changes in Goren's condition," he told Logan. "Otherwise I'll see you back in town." His own head pounding, Ross headed back out to follow his team back to New York.

--  
**Cortland Regional Medical Center  
The next day  
**  
Goren struggled from the depths of unconsciousness, and lifted his eyelids wearily. The florescent lights on the ceiling made him squint.

He tried to stretch experimentally, but it felt like every muscle was stiff. He looked down at his right arm and saw the IV start. He looked at his left arm... and saw the tousled blonde hair of his partner. She was fast asleep, her head on her hands, her hands resting on his arm.

The memories came back to him then, flooding his mind with images he tried to shut out. Palmer... the drugs...

He remembered lying, tied, on a filthy floor, and trying to awaken his partner...

Goren looked at Eames more closely, and he saw the wound on the side of her head. He traced its outline with a long, slender finger.

"I'm sorry, Eames."

She moved just a bit, and awakened, looking into his face. A tear made its way down his cheek.

"What is it?" Eames was immediately alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I just - it's just one more time." Goren shook his head.

"One more time?" Eames was puzzled now.

"One more time that you've gotten hurt, saving my sorry ass," Goren finished.

"Bobby, don't-"

"Don't you ever get tired of it, Eames? Your life would be so much easier without me to worry about."

Eames wiped his tears away with her finger. She smiled, a sad smile. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, Bobby. You're my partner... my friend. I know you'd be there for me, too."

Goren snorted, but he knew she spoke the truth; he would never let anything happen to her, if it was in his power to prevent. It never seemed to turn out that way, though. The last time she'd been in trouble... he shuddered. Only her guile and her own will had saved her. He sure as hell hadn't.

Eames mis-took his shudder for a shiver, and she tucked his blankets gently around him. He pulled his arm back out, and found her hand with his. "Thank you."

Eames smiled, and it brightened his mood. "You're welcome, partner."

--

**County Courthouse  
Moravia, New York  
Two months later  
**  
The case of the People vs Gene Palmer had been moved from New York City courts, because the defense attorney had successfully argued that her client could not get a fair trial there. This would be the last day of Palmer's trial...

The foreman of the jury stood with the verdict on a piece of folded paper. She opened it and read it. It had taken only a short deliberation to determine it.

"On the three counts of kidnapping of a police officer, we find the defendant... guilty.

"On the one count of possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute, we find the defendant... guilty.

"On the one count of attempted murder of a police officer, we find the defendant... guilty."

Goren released a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. It was over. REALLY over. There would be no parole for Palmer, not this time. He was going away for life. Not that there had really been any doubt, not with the seriousness of his crimes.

The judge thanked the jury, and adjourned the courtroom.

Goren and Eames shook hands with Logan and Ross. Now they could move on... Goren stepped forward toward the railing that separated the court officers from the gallery, and shook the hand of the prosecuting attorney.

He was right at the edge of the aisle that separated the prosecutor's table from the defense. As the officers cuffed Palmer and prepared to lead him away, he stared in Goren's direction until the detective's eyes met his.

Palmer smiled. "This ain't over," he sneered, as they led him away...

**fini**


End file.
